Alright, welcome to this week's When You Are Needed! Not a ton to say!
Start Chapter 12
The last thing Cinder can really remember is dying.
Or, well… no. Dying isn't quite accurate. She'd just been in so much pain that she'd assumed, sort of by nature, that she'd been dying.
It's odd. In all her time serving in The Glass Unicorn, the only thing she'd truly desired had been to be free of her confines. To strip away the necklace binding her to her stepmother's control, and to finally, for the first time in her life, be free.
And yet… there'd always been another desire, hidden back and away from all the others. One Cinder hadn't liked to acknowledge, but that had been there all the same.
She'd never been all that averse to the pain just… stopping either.
No matter what form that might've taken.
And then, of course, the moment she'd finally been freed, the moment some knight like out of the storybooks she'd read in the orphanage she'd grown up in had appeared to whisk her away…
Then, she'd been faced with the death she'd sought for so very long.
That had been her final thought before she'd succumbed. Anger. Fury. Lividity at the very world.
The fact that she'd finally attained it; that she'd finally been granted what she'd always wanted, that she'd grown from the tiniest spark to the coolest ember…
And then had her wick blown out. That man who'd come to corner them, who her mysterious rescuer had attempted to hold off…
He'd stabbed her in the back with… something.
And her consciousness had faded.
But…
She's awake, now.
Her eyes still feel hazy. She has a feeling that something's affecting her, although she knows not what. At the very least, she's completely and utterly spent. She'd been run ragged for years and years without any proper chance to take a break, and now that she is, now that she's laid out, it's like all those aches and pains are surfacing.
Her legs her. Her ankles her. Her knees hurt. Her wrists hurt. Her fingers hurt. Her neck hurts. Her back hurts.
She's so tired of hurting.
Just as she's thinking this does the door to her room – seemingly a hospital or other medical area – open, and in steps–
Cinder's breath catches.
He's there.
Her savior.
"You–" She tries to lunge out of bed, but her entire body is alight with pain – or, no, that's not right. It's her chest, and her stomach most of all.
"Easy now." Her savior steps in, urging her to lay back down, and applying enough pressure onto one shoulder to force her to do just that. "You've just begun to recover from being poisoned. I doubt you could seriously injure yourself by moving about too much, but it's probably best you give your body as much time as it needs to recover."
He's right. Cinder knows he's right; she'd thought as much herself. She'd just… gotten caught up in the moment is all.
Still… poison? Who would want to poison her?
It occurs to her, as she does her best to relax herself, and not lunge out of her bed again, that she doesn't even know the man's name. He'd asked her own, briefly panicked, and then they'd been running from that man with the scorpion tail – Oh, Cinder thinks. It had probably been him who'd poisoned her.
She thinks back, back to that moment, seeing her savior step before her, draw one of Cinder's blades – the other of which Cinder had shattered across his aura – and prepare to protect her.
It's… even now, having experienced it, she can barely process that fact. The fact that someone she'd barely met had stood before her, and been willing to fight to keep her safe… after years and years of being treated like nothing; no, worse than nothing…
She doesn't know how to explain what she's feeling, then.
"Are you alright?" The man asks of her, his eyes soft; kind. "You seem distracted."
Cinder's cheeks heat up somewhat, but she looks away, "Just… thinking about what happened before. That man with the scorpion tail."
"Ah, him." Her savior grimaces. "Yeah, that… I imagine that was likely pretty terrifying for you. Added onto, well, everything else you went through that day, too."
Cinder had, somehow, almost entirely forgotten about that. About the fact that she'd killed the Madame, and her daughters. It… she hadn't meant to. It had been… she'd…
"It's okay!" The man rushes to assure her. "You don't have to… I'm sure you've got an awful lot to think about right now, and I can't really give you any easy answers. What happened… it's not something you can just deal with easily. It's likely going to haunt you for a long time. But if you want to talk about it, then I'm here, alright?"
Cinder nods her head, feeling somewhat warmer than she'd been in the last few seconds.
"…What's your name?"
It sort of slips out, even if Cinder had been meaning to ask. She just… feels like there had probably been a better time to ask that than the moment she'd chosen, still reeling from thinking about what had happened back at the Glass Unicorn.
"Oh." Her savior chuckles. "I suppose I never did introduce myself, did I? I'm Jaune. Jaune Arc."
Cinder absorbs that information, trying to think about if she knows any 'Arc's'. In the end, she figures she doesn't.
"Thank you." She says, not able to look at the man, at Mr. Arc. "For saving me."
"Ah…" He looks somewhat awkward about the whole mess. "Well… I wasn't just going to leave you there. Not after… everything."
Cinder understands. Or she thinks she does, anyhow.
And then, interrupting the admittedly awkward conversation before it can really find any ground to stand on, the door at the back of the room opens up.
And in steps–
Cinder's blood runs cold. Her veins turn to ice. Her heart beats at a million miles a minute, and briefly, she thinks it might've stopped altogether.
A figure stands there, in the doorway, with her white hair done up in a fanciful design, one which almost resembles something Cinder might've seen the Madame wear. But similarities to human beings end around there.
The woman – Cinder thinks, thinks, she looks vaguely like a woman – does not step towards them, but hovers. She does not smile at them, but merely mimics the motions. She says something, but it's lost in the haze that's overtaken Cinder's mind.
This… this woman, she…
"You're frightening her."
Cinder looks towards her savior, and sees the half-angry, half-controlled expression on his face. He seems furious, but also like he's holding himself back, like being true to himself would land him in trouble.
Cinder knows the expression; she's worn it much of her own life.
"Ah, but I seem to have forgotten the power of my own presence," The woman speaks, and Cinder snaps out of her own head to see the woman chuckling. "You'll grow used to the sensation, young one, I'm sure."
Cinder's fairly certain she doesn't want to.
"You are likely confused as well, I assume?" The woman asks Cinder, and the palpable feeling of fear within Cinder at the very sight of her has diminished somewhat, to the point that she's able to bring herself to nod. "Understandable. You were, after all, unconscious for your entire journey here. Very well, then. Allow me to elucidate the past few days that you have missed, and what your role is to be here."
Cinder listens, and follows along with what the woman – Salem, she tells Cinder – is saying. In essence, she's been being watched for quite some time. This woman had felt that she would make for a suitable enforcer to serve in her inner circle. She's yet to be informed just what it is an enforcer in said inner circle actually does, but it sounds better, at least, than washing floors or cleaning hotel rooms.
So, Cinder doesn't really have too many complaints.
As Salem explains, however, Cinder keeps gazing over at Mr. Arc every once in a while. His expression is guarded, surely, but where Cinder can read beyond that shielding…
She can see that he is unhappy with the things Salem is asking of her.
Cinder's not terribly sure why. From the sound of things, Salem means to keep training Cinder, as Rhodes had, only more frequently, and she means to offer Cinder power, which…
Cinder does her best to stay rational when the woman says that; that she wants Cinder to play the role of some mythical Maiden, something she's not explained, but which intrigues her. She says it will come with a power beyond Cinder's wildest dreams.
And Cinder…
She has dreamed quite a bit.
There is a hunger within her, something that Cinder can't quite describe. Something that has only ever grown, trapped within the posh interior of the Glass Unicorn, worked to the bone, until her muscles ached, until her bones cracked, until her spirit broke.
That hunger…
It calls out to the rest of her that no matter what she has to do, no matter what it is she's faced with…
She should go along with what this woman says.
She needs it. She needs that power.
Because power… power might just be what finally grants her freedom.
"I'll do it!" Cinder shouts, interrupting the woman's monologue. She'd… admittedly missed quite a bit of the latter portion, and such does not seem to be lost on either Salem, or Mr. Arc.
"I see. Well, I was less offering, and more explaining what would be expected of you," Salem rolls her eyes. "But your enthusiasm is noted. Once you have fully recovered from Tyrian's poison, I will expect you to spend the majority of your days training, and growing stronger. It will be some time yet before I will expect you to take an active role within my inner circle, but even so… you have a certain pedigree to muster up to. Am I understood, girl?"
Cinder nods her head, that hunger within her breast dictating that she not even consider the fact that Salem is referring to her, talking to her, in much the same way that the Madame always had.
Like she's lesser than her.
"Good. Very well, then." Salem smiles. "I will leave you to rest. Jaune of Arc, I would advise you do the same. Stay no more than a few minutes, and then depart as well."
And with that, Salem leaves, her feet never touching the ground beneath her, instead being held aloft by some unexplainable phenomena. The door shuts behind her without her having ever touched it.
And then it's just her, and Mr. Arc.
Initially, the man doesn't say anything. The scowl upon his face deepens, to the point that creases form in his skin. It's clear he wants to say something – perhaps a lot of something's – but he looks back to Cinder, sighs, and shakes his head.
"Don't believe a word she says." He tells her, pushing off of Cinder's bed, and moving towards the door himself. "It's… there's more to all of this than she lets on. Don't subscribe to her set of beliefs without first knowing what she's asking you to fight for."
Cinder… she nods her head, doing her best to ignore the voice coming from that hunger within her that tells her Mr. Arc is trying to hold her back.
He isn't. He's simply telling her to stay calm, and to not just jump right into this.
…Even if that's what Cinder had been planning on doing.
"I really should leave though, but…" Mr. Arc turns back towards her. "Just… careful, Cinder. I'll try and stop by when I can sometime later. Maybe tomorrow, if I don't have the time to today. Rest well, alright?"
Cinder looks away, trying to ignore the heat rising into her cheeks.
"I will."
Mr. Arc smiles at her. "I'm glad."
He's gone without another word.
/
The moment that the Divinity finally crests atop the shores of Menagerie, the moment that Blake's feet touch down on the sands of her old home, she lets out a deep, satisfied sigh.
They'd done it.
She'd done it.
Obviously, Blake hadn't succeeded alone, but had she failed, she's fairly certain she'd have taken the entire responsibility on her own shoulders. She'd been the one to rip them from their lives in Atlas – whether those lives had been torturous or not – and she'd been the one to drag them halfway across the continent and then again halfway across the world.
And there had been… quite a few close calls.
The fact that they'd made it there in one piece is nothing short of a miracle.
Even so, they have.
And Menagerie…
Menagerie is a lot like Blake remembers it.
Of course, there are some differences. Restaurants in places where she'd expected others; guards not wearing White Fang masks, and seeming an awful lot laxer about just about everything. There's a general air about the city that has Blake wanting to smile, despite it all.
They'll be safe here. Blake's sure of it.
She turns back towards the Divinity, where the crew of the ship are helping the refugees to move themselves, and their sparse belongings, out of the hold. It had been rather cramped down below whenever Blake had gone down, so she doesn't think the fact that multiple people are stretching out, and laughing as they bounce around on the warm sands, is particularly odd.
She'd have been doing the same if she hadn't had an image to maintain.
She's not sure what it is she wants to do now, however. Everything had been… certainly not simple, because things had been anything but while Blake had been guiding the refugees through Atlas, and here to Menagerie, but at the very least, she'd had a concrete goal, and one she could stick to.
And now…
Now she's left bereft of one.
It's difficult to make sense of that. The fact that she'd been more at ease in a life-or-death scenario than she is now, with total freedom to dictate her next actions.
Because the truth of the matter is that Blake doesn't really like being the 'planner'.
Oh, she had, for a while. When she'd been back in Beacon, she'd come up with a multitude of different plans to prove that the White Fang had not truly been behind the dust store robberies, or then, after that had failed, to track down the White Fang themselves, and put a stop to their schemes.
…and then, after that had failed, to go to Menagerie and prevent them from hurting anyone else.
The only reason that hadn't failed is because Blake had had help. Sun, her parents, and so many other people had helped her to stave off the radical White Fang's influence on Menagerie.
And…
Because of that, Blake has grown to understand that it is perhaps best she takes part in operations only once things actually need doing. Planning, it seems, is not her strongest suit.
She's just too… Yang would say hot-headed – which is rich, coming from her – but Blake would instead use the term 'passionate'. She gets overwhelmed by her own emotions, and they prevent her from making more rational decisions in the heat of the moment.
…Okay, yes, that perhaps does make her hot-headed.
It's as Blake is considering this, the fact that she has no idea what it is that she wants to do, that someone clears their throat behind her.
Blake turns, and sees, who else, but young Adam Taurus, and his mother, Evelynn.
They both smile up at her, even if it's clear neither are entirely certain what it is they intend to do now.
Which she imagines is going to be a rather common thought amongst the newest arrivals.
Blake convinced that what she'd done had been necessary; stuck there, in the middle of one of the SDC's mining camps, being worked to the bone and treated like garbage, something would've gone wrong eventually. Someone would've died. As much as it's difficult to accept, relocating their entire lives to Menagerie is, likely, the safer option in the long term.
Even if it has left many of the people that she'd rescued from that SDC mining camp bereft of work, or home.
Hell, some probably still have family back on Atlas.
Blake sighs, but decides to think about those things later.
"Hello, you two." She smiles at them.
Adam, seemingly still quite nervous, hides behind his mother, and whispers something – it sounds like "hello" – just as Evelynn rolls her eyes, and says, "Hello, Ms. Weiss."
Blake decides that, given she's known these people enough time, she should probably just… give them her first name.
It's not like the name Blake is exclusive to the Belladonna family.
"My real name is Blake, if you were curious." She tells them, and she watches as Eve's eyes briefly widen. "I felt there was no reason to continue to hide such from you."
"Ah, well…" Eve smiles. "I'm glad to hear it. It's a wonderful name, Ms. Blake."
Hearing the woman call her 'miss', when she's obviously older than Blake, doesn't ever stop feeling just a bit weird.
They talk of nothing of import as the last of the refugees make their way into Menagerie, and Blake has to briefly step aside from talking with Adam and Eve – the latter of whom seems to want to say something to her – to explain current happenings to the local authorities. The White Fang haven't made themselves a real fighting force yet – for good or ill – but even so…
"Thank you for doing such a thing for them." Her father, Ghira Belladonna, looking like he had when Blake had been just a girl, smiles over at her. "These people would've suffered greatly had you not come when you did. I only wish things could've gone differently. It's in the faunus' best interest to not incite conflict at the moment."
She understands what her father is saying. She really does.
After all, when Sienna's White Fang has risen out of the corpse of her father's own, it had inspired fear in many people, earned the faunus some much needed respect.
But it had also led to an increase in racism, in hate crimes, and in all sorts of nasty things for the faunus the world over.
It's difficult for Blake to truly weigh the consequences of such actions. Certainly, the faunus going through the worst kinds of abuse at the hands of people like the SDC had had their lives improved by the violent White Fang. But those who called the many cities of Remnant home, just trying to live their lives, likely had to do so with an increased risk of experiencing racially motivated incidents.
Complicated. Far too much so for Blake, even nearly twenty-years-old as she is now.
"Either way," Her father clears his throat. "Thank you. I'm sure each and every person you've brought here would say the same, Ms…?"
"Blake." She tells him, and gets some small amusement out of his own smile.
"Ah, funny. My daughter's name is Blake."
"Small world."
"It really is." Ghira chuckles.
After that, she retires to the beaches, content to try and work out her immediate life plan for the future. She is, at the moment, well and truly adrift.
She's not alone for very long.
"Excuse me, Ms. Blake?"
She turns her head around to see Eve standing there at the edge of the beach, where the vegetation still grows, but is constantly at risk of being eroded away by the sand.
"What is it?" She asks, and Eve walks towards her, eventually sitting down a few feet to Blake's left.
"I…" She looks up at the sky, at the sun hanging off in the distance, beginning its daily descent. The horizon is painted with many vivid hues, bright oranges and yellows and the subtlest hints of red.
It's gorgeous. Blake's never really been one to stop and appreciate such things. She should do so more often.
"I want to ask a rather massive favor of you, Ms. Blake."
She turns her body somewhat, so that she can look at Evelynn a bit easier.
"Oh?"
"I…" Evelynn swallows, before turning to face Blake, as well, and placing her hand over her heart. "I want you to train me!"
Blake… had not been expecting to hear something like that. It catches her almost entirely off guard, has her wide-eyed and on the backfoot as Adam's mother leans forward, and explains herself.
"I…" She swallows, "I've never been very strong. All my life, people have walked all over me. My husband… my ex-husband, I should say, was… abusive, in all meanings of the word. He was like that with me… but also with Adam."
That… Blake hadn't known that. She'd known that Adam's childhood had been something he never liked to discuss, but…
She'd always figured it had been about his mother. After all, she knew what had happened to her. In the White Fang, it had become somewhat of a custom for newer recruits to share their stories in the olden days. Back when things had been more personal, and less…
Less terrorist-y.
To encourage them, Adam had always been the one to step up first; to tell his own story.
'My mother,' he had told them all, standing in front of a crowd of fifty or so young kids, way in over their heads. 'Worked in an SDC mining camp. She took me along with her because she didn't have the money to house me while she worked. The mines didn't pay nearly enough. Because of that, I was with her. I was there, every single day. Every day, I saw the abuses that our people suffered there. Every day, I saw the abuses that she suffered. And on one particular day… I was there when one of the workmen came up to me, and told me that she'd been killed by rockfall in the mines.'
Blake still remembers that. She still remembers what Evelynn's fate would have eventually been in her time.
She's changed that. Altered the flow of events on Remnant already in her short time here.
She could say she hadn't meant to, but such would be a rather poor lie. She'd barely considered for a second whether jumping in front of Adam being branded had been the right idea or not, before doing just that. Certainly, she'd not known that had been Adam, not known that she'd been somehow brought into the past, but…
She'd make the same decision again, even knowing what she does now.
She'd saved Adam's mother, and, likely, made it so that his life will be a far happier one.
That has to count for something.
She realizes she's been zoned out while Evelynn has been waiting for her to respond.
"That's terrible." She tells her, and she means it, even if she feels a bit bad that she'd been distracted.
"It was. What was more terrible… was that it took me until he hurt Adam to want to do anything about it." Eve laughs, but it's a weak thing, barely there. "When it was just me… I sat and took it. Didn't make so much as a squeak. That's… how I've always been, I guess. Unwilling to put any effort in for my own sake."
Blake doesn't really know what she wants to say to that. Isn't really sure how to respond.
"But y'know what? When I finally tried to leave, tried to save Adam from him… my husband tracked us down. He… I wasn't sure what he was going to do. It was Adam who saved us. He called the police like he'd always been taught to. That landed his father in prison, and had him outfitted with a restraining order." She reaches up, and runs her hand along her brow, massaging at her forehead. "I couldn't do a thing. Didn't. I was useless like I always am. And the same thing happened in that mining camp. Adam… he protected me, and when it came down to it, you had to save him. I couldn't…"
Evelynn takes a breath, and Blake…
She just wants to listen. She wants to let her finish.
"I thought in that moment… I would do anything to save him from what they were going to do to him. I prayed to any gods out there, wished for someone to come and rescue him, and… and like some kind of guardian angel, you did."
Blake finds her face heating up, being compared to a mythical figure like that.
"You arrived, just as I'd prayed you would. And you saved Adam from a lifetime of trauma, and pain, and… and so many other things. I couldn't. I just… had to sit there, and watch as it was going to happen."
"And I… I don't think I could've lived with myself if that happened. If something like that happens again… if someone tries to threaten Adam, or anyone else that I love or care about… then I want to be able to do something about it." Eve turns towards her, and though her lip is wobbling in fear, in anxiety…
There's a certain fire in her gaze as well.
It reminds Blake of the flame that Adam himself had carried.
Perhaps that had always been in his blood.
"So please… you're strong." Evelynn tells her. "You're the strongest woman I've ever seen; you… you made a miracle happen right in front of my eyes. I… I want to be able to be like you!"
Blake's blush only deepens. Such words…
They're not meant for someone like her. Surely not.
"…What you're asking for," Blake takes a breath, and then releases it with a great sigh. "It will not be easy. Likely, it will be the hardest thing you have ever done in your entire life. If you want to be able to fight – truly fight – then you will need to train to a degree where all other things must fall away."
Eve meets her gaze, not looking away.
"This is not something you will be able to master in a few months. Maybe not even in a few years. This will take everything you are to accomplish. Is that something you're ready to accept?"
Blake already knows what Evelynn's answer will be. She can see it blazing behind her eyes.
"It is." The mother of Adam Taurus tells her, her voice carrying not a hint of doubt.
And Blake just nods.
"Alright…"
And she thinks… she may've just found what it is she's going to be doing for the next little while.
"Then let's begin."
/
Ensign Elm Ederne of the Atlesian Naval Fleet cannot help but fidget somewhat as she waits to be interviewed within one of Atlas' top military facilities.
From what she understands, she's going through what nearly every other member of her crew will go through within the next few days. The Atlas Military is looking to gather as much information as they possibly can about what had happened within both the SDC mining camp 'C-14', and aboard the Atlesian Trading Vessel, 'Divinity'.
Because apparently, from descriptions, both incidents had been perpetrated by the same figure.
And that has, rather understandably, got quite a few people within Atlas nervous.
Elm is sat there, her frame entirely too large for the chair she's occupying within the dimly lit room that she's pretty sure would normally be used to interrogate criminals. Elm hasn't done anything wrong, and she's sticking to that.
Her superior officer can suck it, in her opinion, if he thinks that securing the safety of the Divinity's crew hadn't been more important than radioing in what had been happening to the rest of the fleet.
As she's thinking such things, the door at the back of the room opens, and in steps…
Well, she hadn't quite expected to see Captain – and, in a rather poorly kept secret, soon to be General – James Ironwood today.
"Ms. Ederne." Captain Ironwood addresses her with a steady, calm tone. He steps towards her, offers out his hand, and shakes Elm's. He doesn't have a terribly harsh grip like some of the other military men she's met in her life, and doesn't seem at all intimidated – or emasculated – by the fact that Elm is a bit bulkier than him.
One would think in the Military, of all places, that having to seem tougher than some random muscly woman wouldn't be that important a thing, and yet Elm has gone through scenarios time and time again where those serving alongside her in things like drills or sparring matches try extra hard not to lose to her.
Captain Ironwood seems like the type of person who'd notice ability first, and anything else a distant second.
Elm finds she likes the man's vibe immediately.
"Thank you for coming in today."
"Ah, well, they told me to."
Ironwood chuckles. "I suppose they did. Well, allow me to set something straight; you're here for multiple reasons, not just the listed one. Surely, we want your description of the perpetrator behind the C-14 and Divinity incidents, but we also want to ask you questions about the general conduct aboard your cutter, ensign."
Elm sits a bit straighter in her chair – which makes a rather horrible rickety noise – as she turns the man's words over in her head.
"If you don't mind me asking, sir… Why?"
"I want to hear your view on things before I say anything that might taint or otherwise alter your telling of events. Please, walk me through the events that unfolded just southwest of Menagerie."
Elm nods her head slowly, not quite sure what to make of all of this, but in the end, she does just that.
She tells him of that day, how they'd engaged in a routine stop to 'check' the ship's cargo. How they'd come aboard, and the crew had been acting strange.
"So, you noticed right away that something was off."
"I did, sir." Elm isn't going to pretend like her superior officers hadn't totally blown it to save them face. She's not exactly their greatest fans. "I was going to alert my superior officers to what I saw as a potential threat, but they were too busy blustering, and attempting to…"
She holds herself. She likes her job and position within the Atlas Navy, as much as she hates the fact that her bosses have gotten away with the things they have for, likely, years now.
She wants to rat them out, but–
"If it's fear of retaliation that stays your tongue, then know that anything you say here will remain confidential." Ironwood speaks suddenly, and Elm's eyes widen as she looks back up at him. "Suffice it to say we have our suspicions already about the conduct of some of the Atlas Navy's officers. Go ahead, ensign."
Elm nods, and then continues.
"They were planning on taking some of the Divinity's cargo; either using the profits to line their own pockets, or if it was food, to eat it. It's a pretty standard thing for them. They do it quite often."
"How often?"
"Once a week? Give or take some variance."
Ironwood jots something down on a clipboard beside him, and then motions for Elm to continue.
"After that… well, my superiors weren't giving up, and that's when the woman… shit I forgot the name I'm supposed to use."
"The assailant has been given the code name 'Black Fang' in our database for the time being."
"Right, so this 'Black Fang' lady, she shouts out at first… I think she called my superior stupid? I don't really remember the specifics."
Ironwood's smiling. "That's fine, ensign. Continue."
"She landed on the deck… no, that's not right. It was like she teleported. She was faster than anyone I'd ever seen. And frankly, I've seen some crazy fast motherf– er… people in the Atlas Military."
Ironwood nods his head. "Describe her for me."
"Lithe build; muscular, but not so much so to be noticeable. She had the body of a Huntress, honestly. She had two cat-like ears atop her head, black in color. Her hair was black, too. Uh… outfit was white with black pants, I think. Weapon was fairly distinctive though. Some kind of gun/knife/whip thing. Hard to describe."
"I've read the reports." Ironwood chuckles. "So, I can tell you that so far, the accounts I've read haven't done a particularly grand job of describing it, either."
"Well, anyways, she was wearing a mask, so if you want eye-color, or really facial features of any kind, I'm afraid I've got nothing. I don't think the mask was something she had available, though. Looked to me like it might've been carved from the Divinity's hull itself."
"As if she took a chunk from the ship, and fashioned it into a mask?"
"Exactly like that, sir."
"Hm." Ironwood notes something else down. "Alright, then. Lastly, I'd like to discuss with you your decision to not call in to the rest of the fleet, and instead prioritize the lives of the crewmen of the Divinity."
Elm squirms in her seat, feeling like she's about to get chewed out by a superior officer. She's always hated it, especially when she knows she's in the wrong.
This time, however, she doesn't feel like she is.
Maybe that'll make it feel worse?
And yet, where she'd expected retribution…
"I must applaud your decision-making skills on this front, ensign."
Elm's eyes widen, and she turns back towards Ironwood to see him looking at her with an almost proud expression.
"Wha–" Elm shakes her head. "But I… I disobeyed the order of my captain… and I let the terrorist get away."
"Both of those things may be true," Ironwood speaks, and Elm feels a little wind be pulled from her sails. "But there are far more important extenuating circumstances to consider. For one, you had reason to doubt the validity of your superior officer's commands. As such, in a time of crisis, it is understandable you may hesitate to follow an order that you personally disagreed with. Even had that not been true, however, I feel I must disagree with the fundamental logic of your captain."
"In what way, sir?"
"In that if the man being held hostage had instead been an Atlesian soldier, perhaps the argument could've been made to sacrifice him to stop a potential threat. After all, that man or woman would've volunteered their life in the service of Atlas. But that hostage was not an Atlesian Military Soldier. They were a civilian. Just a crewmember of a cargo ship. In such a case, I believe his life takes priority over wanting to apprehend such a criminal. There are also many other reasons I believe you made the right call. For one, I don't believe Black Fang intended to harm the crew of the Divinity at all."
Elm's eyes widen. "What… gives you that impression, sir?"
"For one, that she had no desire to be seen unless entirely necessary. She avoided conflict until it was clear that whatever it was that she was attempting to hide was going to be discovered. And even then, when combat commenced, reports say she drew the haphazard gunfire of some of ANF Cutter 13's officers away from the ship, and potential civilian casualties, and instead focused those shots on herself. That leads me to believe that she did not intend for any real harm to come to the crew."
"That… why would she…"
"Why would she not want harm to come to them? Perhaps she was simply not the type to want to kill. After all, the entirety of your crew came back alive, albeit with some minor injuries. The Divinity's crew has, likewise, been found to all be accounted for now that they've docked and subsequently undocked at Menagerie. It's clear that above all else, Black Fang would've preferred such a trip to be done quickly, quietly, and without anyone ever knowing it happened. An errant fatality is an awfully good way for people to start asking questions."
"Do we know what she wanted? Or do we have any idea?"
"From the accounts of the crew of the Divinity, we know the woman threatened them into smuggling a good hundred or so faunus from the town of Oaresberg to Kuo Kuana, in Menagerie. Given she was also responsible for the event at C-14, it's likely she was smuggling Faunus refugees from that very mine to Menagerie."
"Couldn't we simply cross check against records there, and then get those faunus back, sir?"
"Yes and no." Ironwood tells her. "We could, if we wished, make a massive show over sending members of the Atlas Military to Menagerie, practically sending up a signal flare to the media that something has happened, and potentially creating scares of another faunus war being on the horizon in the hearts of both ours and Menagerie's citizens. All of this just to drag back a good hundred or so civilians whom, I've gathered, were likely the victims of abuse under the SDC, and have thusly done quite literally nothing to warrant such a reaction from us."
Ironwood sighs. "Or, we can turn our heads away, and pretend we do not see. We can accept that the Atlas Military got duped this one time. We can allow a hundred or so faunus to start new lives on Menagerie, and perhaps even assist their family members here in Atlas with relocating there if they require such assistance."
"Why… go to all that effort?"
"Because public relations, you'll find," Ironwood smiles, "Are often far more important than results. And right now, the SDC can't really afford any more negative press. They're in damage control mode already. What happened at C-14 was bad, from what I hear. Quite bad. Enough so that even without any of what happened there getting reported to the general public, nearly all of the staff of C-14 are being blacklisted from the company, and a few may even face prison time."
Elm winces. That… sounds rather bad.
"But they have a monopoly on Dust…"
"Oh, of course. The SDC themselves are at no real risk of being run out of business, or facing any legal trouble, even if they had a hundred more incidents like this one. The uncomfortable truth is that the SDC is as close to untouchable as any organization on Remnant. Every kingdom in the world relies upon them. But at the same time, having the SDC be known abusers of the faunus could create bridges that might one day lead to further strife for the members of the SDC's board, and shareholders. Strife between them, and terrorist elements that are, as we speak, already growing within Atlas and Mantle. So, for the SDC, if they can sweep this entire matter with C-14 under the rug by allowing a few hundred faunus to escape Atlas' clutches, then they'll be quite glad to accept that, and even subsidize us to accept it as well."
"…Forgive me, sir, this all seems a bit complicated for my liking."
Captain James Ironwood lets out a modest laugh, then, before nodding his head. "I'm sure you're no more confused than I was when I first learned of such things. But, enough about such complicated matters. I've a proposal to make to you, ensign."
"Huh?"
"Seeing as how your superior officers, if I can manage it, will find themselves out of their positions in the near future, you will likely need to be reallocated to serve under a different ship. My proposal is that instead of bothering with such, you accept my recommendation to enlist in the Specialist Program."
Elm's eyes are wide. There are so many different emotions running through her in that moment that she barely knows how to process them at all.
But in the end, the thought that eventually occurs to her is…
"Why me, sir?"
"Because Atlas always needs more people willing to make tough calls in hard times. Because I think you're the kind of soldier who can get those things done, and that, with Hunter training, you might even become quite the ace, yourself."
Elm feels her chest puffing out just a bit, her ego unable to resist swelling up ever so slightly.
"And it's also possible I have somewhat of a vested interest," Captain Ironwood smiles as he stands from his chair, and begins making his way to the door at the back of the chamber, beckoning for Elm to follow. "After all, when I'm made General…"
"I'd like only the very best under my command."
End Chapter 12
Alright, that's that!
Ironwood's building a force, which is normal, I suppose. Politics in Atlas are showing up for the first time, I'm sure those won't be relevant.
Jaune doing his best to break Cinder's conditioning early, and Blake's taken on an apprentice. More next week!
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